


Pretty When You Cry

by syzygied



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Bottom Kim Jongin | Kai, Dacryphilia, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Hair-pulling, Humiliation, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, M/M, Overstimulation, Top Do Kyungsoo | D.O, Under-negotiated Kink, Voyeurism, slight but it’s there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syzygied/pseuds/syzygied
Summary: Three times Kyungsoo gets off on making Jongin cry and one time he doesn't.[ For "Dacryphilia" in Top!soo Fest Round 3 ]
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongin | Kai
Comments: 44
Kudos: 297
Collections: top!soo fest: round 3 (2019-2020)





	Pretty When You Cry

**Author's Note:**

> Shout-out to the top!soo mods for being incredibly wonderful and patient with me. Also shout-out to Jongin, for being the world’s cutest, prettiest crier.

The first time is by accident. Not that anyone believes him about it, like somehow it’s easier to assume that Kyungsoo is just sadistic rather than accept that Jongin could be into something like that. And maybe Kyungsoo is a sadist, but he’s not _cruel,_ and certainly not overbearing.

“You can be rougher with me hyung,” Jongin says. “I won’t mind. I—can take it.”

They start small. Kyungsoo doesn’t want to scare him, and Jongin is bad at talking about what he likes, eternally embarrassed, no matter how many times Kyungsoo tells him there’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s cautious at first—a tug of Jongin’s hair, a faster pace when Kyungsoo fingers him, a little bit more teeth when they kiss. Kyungsoo learns a lot: Jongin likes getting his hair pulled, likes it when Kyungsoo stuffs his throat full of cock until he gags and chokes, likes it when Kyungsoo fucks him like he’s entitled to his hole. It’s a slow process. 

The first time it happens is in the late morning. Kyungsoo knows this, because he remembers the way that Jongin was surrounded with a warm halo of golden light, and knows that the light comes into his room like that, at that angle, in the late morning. He’s been woken up by it too many times in the past to forget, when he used to not have breaks between schedules for weeks at a time, back when sleep was a precious commodity that none of them could get enough of. Jongin is perched on his lap, hips undulating in lazy slow movements, and Kyungsoo allows himself to just lay there and relax for a little bit. Languid, with the last vestiges of sleep still clinging to his body, making him feel loose and content. It’s Jongin who gets antsy first. He can never ride Kyungsoo quite hard enough to get himself to come untouched, which is saying a lot, because Jongin has great control over his hips. Unparalleled, certainly more than enough for Kyungsoo. It’s just that Jongin likes to be fucked hard, like really _hard,_ the jarring, headboard banging against the wall, teeth clacking together loudly in his jaw, balls slapping against his ass type fucking, that leaves Kyungsoo sweaty and panting afterwards, and even gave him a foot cramp once. Not that he’s complaining, or anything. He lets Jongin clamber off his lap, chuckling at the rushed way he bends over, positions himself ass up face down, like he can’t wait to be fucked roughly from behind for even one second longer. 

“Harder,” Jongin says, almost immediately after Kyungsoo presses into him. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. Always so impatient. He ignores him, focuses instead on breathing through the dizzying pleasure that that first slide in always brings, even if it’s only the first after thirty seconds. The last thing he wants is to come too soon. Eventually, when he’s finally adjusted he pulls back and then thrusts forward. Jongin whines and pushes his hips back almost immediately. 

“Hyung,” he says again, “harder, please,” 

“Shut up,” Kyungsoo says, “stop being so whiny.” It’s more a casual reminder of who is in charge than actual annoyance. Kyungsoo likes the way Jongin whines in all honesty. Which is a fact that Jongin must know, because he ignores him completely. 

“Hyung,” he says again, “fuck me harder, come on, I wanna come. Make me come.” 

“Christ,” says Kyungsoo, “you’re insatiable, aren’t you. Can’t handle not being fucked like a bitch in heat for even a minute?” Jongin looks back at that, and gives Kyungsoo a reproachful, pouty look. 

“I rode you for so long,” he says, petulant. “The least you could do is—ah—“ he gasps as Kyungsoo thrusts a little harder and trails off, moaning loudly. 

“What,” says Kyungsoo, “forgot what you were gonna say?” Jongin doesn’t answer, just drools into the blankets, expression blissed out as he eagerly presses his hips back to meet Kyungsoo’s thrusts. God, he’s so fucking greedy sometimes. Kyungsoo grabs a handful of Jongins thick, dark hair on a whim, ignoring the way Jongin cries out in pained surprise, and forces his face down into the blanket. He fucks him like that too, hard, the way Jongin has been wanting to be fucked all this time, until the headboard is thumping against the wall and Kyungsoo feels like he’ll end up with friction burns on his knees, even on Jongin’s 600-thread count sheets. God, they really are the worst roommates. Kyungsoo makes a mental note to buy everyone in Exo a meal soon, when Jongin comes, practically screaming as he twitches and shoots his load all over the sheets, untouched. Kyungsoo hasn’t come yet. Which means he gets to fuck Jongin while he’s at his most sensitive, all twitchy and receptive and whiny. It’s one of his favorite past-times. He lets go of Jongin’s hair and moves his hand to hip instead, so that he can hear the way that Jongin gurgles and whimpers as he’s overstimulated. It’s so cute, the way Jongin twitches, the way he tears up from the overflow of sensations. 

“Hyung, it hurts, it hurts,” Jongin wails, but Kyungsoo shushes him, sticks his sweaty fingers in his mouth so that Jongin is gagging on them, making little snuffling sounds. God, he’s such a fucking mess this time, tear tracks decorating his cheeks, hiccoughing, keening pitifully as Kyungsoo spears into him. All that impatience and greed, only to come too fast all over himself like some over-eager virgin. Beautiful, pathetic. Kyungsoo wants to absolutely _ruin_ him. He thrusts harder still, pinches Jongin’s nipples with his other hand, makes Jongin gag on his fingers harder until he falls apart, because Kyungsoo wants to see what he looks like when he does. And apparently, when Jongin falls apart, he’s a sobbing, wailing mess. He tries to commit it to memory, the way Jongin is whining with tears dripping down his face, nose running, drooling on himself around Kyungsoo’s fingers even as he does his best to suck on them. Absolutely no composure. It shouldn’t make Kyungsoo’s dick as hard as it does, but he can’t help it, hips pistoning forward almost of their own accord as Jongin wails and shakes from oversensitivity. Jongin is so loud, and Kyungsoo is vaguely aware of the fact that the other members must be able to hear what’s going on still, are probably worried if not straight up horrified, but he can’t be bothered with it, not with Jongin sobbing like this, wet come all over his stomach, clenching around Kyungsoo’s cock. It’s so hot, it’s the hottest thing Kyungsoo has ever seen. He’s coming seconds later, whole body shuddering, blood rushing in his ears so much he can’t hear Jongin’s pitiful little whimpers and gagging noises as Kyungsoo accidentally presses his fingers a bit too hard at the very back of Jongin’s tongue. Fuck. _Fuck._

They don’t talk about it afterwards. No one in the dorms does. Everyone just goes about their day, pretending that it didn’t happen, that they didn’t all hear Jongin sobbing. Kyungsoo wants to talk about it, but he waits, patiently, until the day is over, and it’s just the two of them, curled around each other in bed, safe, covered by the blanket and the gentle darkness of the night. Jongin is more comfortable this way. Kyungsoo learned long ago that the easiest way to make Jongin talk is to ask him about things afterwards, at night, when Jongin is halfway between sleep and wakefulness. 

“I liked it,” Jongin murmurs, somehow still shy despite being half-asleep, “when you were mean—what you said—and when you held my head down. It was—good.” 

“Mmm,” Kyungsoo replies. “I liked it too.” Part of Kyungsoo wants to tell him how much he loved it, how just thinking about the way Jongin let Kyungsoo hold him down and fuck him harshly until Jongin collapsed into a boneless pile on the bedclothes and wailed is hot enough that he could probably get off to it for the rest of his life, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to pressure Jongin, to ever make him feel like Kyungsoo wants more than Jongin is giving him. Jongin is beautiful, but even more than that he’s sweet and caring, and always genuine and unguarded with his heart. It makes Kyungsoo’s breath catch in his throat sometimes, sharp and shaky, that he’s the one that gets to kiss him, and hold him, and see him at night like this. He loves holding him down and fucking him roughly, is eternally grateful that Jongin loves it too, but he’d doesn’t want to force or rush the process. It’s so lovely to watch him open up; Kyungsoo would wait an eternity if that’s what it took. 

Jongin blinks up at him, dreamy and soft, with his head on Kyungsoo’s pillow and the gentle beams of light that pass between the slats of the blinds falling across his sharp jaw line and dark lashes. Kyungsoo cards a hand through his hair and Jongin sighs quietly, eyes drifting closed. His breath deepens, slow and gradual, and Kyungsoo is sure he’s asleep, is dozing off himself, when he hears, “when you made me cry, hyung. That was… my favorite.” Kyungsoo can’t be sure he didn’t dream it. 

_____________________

He tries it again. It’s not a thought-out, logical choice, but it’s not spur of the moment either. It’s more like a compulsion that he and Jongin must fall into, pieces that couldn’t fit together any other way. Jongin had said he liked it when Kyungsoo was mean—Kyungsoo can oblige him again. He doesn’t think he’s naturally mean, like, really, truly, an asshole, but he’s not incredibly nice either. More like… a shade of moral grey. Just mean enough to be mean when asked. Or maybe nice enough, if he thinks about it too much. It’s kind of confusing. Ultimately, though, it doesn’t matter. The other members are out (for once) and it’s actually a relief, because Kyungsoo really doesn’t want them to overhear what he’s going to say. He waits this time, until Jongin is all pliant and spread out on his back, knees pressed against his chest with Kyungsoo deep inside of him. 

“You’re so useless,” he says, ignoring the way Jongin’s eyes fly open at the statement. “All you know how to do is spread your legs and get fucked.” 

“Hyung,” Jongin says, the picture of pouty, whiny put upon-ness. God, he’s so cute. How can he act like this after asking Kyungsoo to be mean to him? 

“It’s true,” says Kyungsoo, “what are you gonna do when you have to enlist, hmm?” 

“What do you mean?” says Jongin. He eyes Kyungsoo, somewhere between reproachful and hopeful. Like he wants to be hurt, but also wants to feel like a victim about it. He’s so stupid. Kyungsoo is utterly in love. 

“I mean,” he says, punctuating his words with a few sharp, forceful thrusts, “all you’re good at is bending over and having cock shoved into you. Is that your plan? Just gonna let all the military boys go to town on your little hole? Gonna let your sergeants spit-roast you every morning while everyone else is running laps and being useful?” 

“No,” says Jongin, sullen, glaring. He makes no move to close his legs though, to push Kyungsoo away or do anything about the wet, squelching noises Kyungsoo’s cock is making inside of him. It’s almost funny; Kyungsoo would laugh if Jongin didn’t feel so hot and tight around him. 

“What are you gonna do then, hmm? Gonna pirouette for them?” 

“I’ll help,” Jongin whines, “I’ll do—I’ll do lots of stuff.” He gets so inarticulate when he’s upset, like his emotions are overrunning his brain until he can’t even remember how to speak. 

“Baby,” says Kyungsoo, “there’s nothing you have to offer that’s as good as the way your pussy feels for me.” 

Baekhyun was right, when he said Jongin was sensitive. Making him upset is too easy. Really, truly, like taking candy from a baby, so much so that it almost brings new meaning to the phrase. Woefully accomplishable, and invariably followed by tears. Jongin sniffles loudly. 

“Aw,” coos Kyungsoo “you really are a dumb little whore aren’t you. Are you really gonna start crying in the middle of getting fucked?” 

“No,” says Jongin, even as his eyes water up, tears clinging prettily to his eyelashes. 

“Go ahead and cry, baby,” says Kyungsoo, “I don’t mind. Do you think it matters to me? Think it makes your hole feel any different?”

“Hyung,” wails Jongin, covering his face with his arm, “hyung that’s—don’t say that.” His voice, normally low, sounds high-pitched and scratchy. 

“Stop pretending you don’t like it” says Kyungsoo, thrusting, and he can tell Jongin is so close, all he needs is a little push to tumble over the edge.

“Go on,” Kyungsoo says, “cry. I like it when you do. It only makes me harder, seeing you all fucked out and pathetic.” Jongin lets out a broken wail at that, bursting into tears with all the drama and pizzazz of an animated Disney princess. He keeps crying too, even when he starts tugging on his own cock, cries even harder when Kyungsoo laughs at him, and then comes, all over his stomach, still sniffling even through the aftershocks, and it’s wonderful, and beautiful, and terrible, because Kyungsoo really does think it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. So hot, so fucking good it has him crying out almost immediately and coming so hard he nearly blacks out from the force of it. So hot it has him lying awake that night too, long after Jongin has falling asleep, guilt swirling hot and heavy in his stomach. Because it’s supposed to be about what Jongin wants. Kyungsoo’s never been ashamed, per se, but he’s always thought his role was more of…benefactor and less of a beneficiary. He doesn’t really want to address the idea that he’s just doing it because he wants to get himself off. It makes him worry about himself. 

When Kyungsoo was five, he had a tape player. Because tapes were like, a thing, back in the days of his youth. Yes. Kyungsoo is that old. And then, when he was 9, his parents bought him a CD player instead. Kyungsoo had gotten rid of all his tapes, but he hadn’t thrown away his tape player. Instead, he’d used a screwdriver to pry the plastic covering off, and pulled apart the wires inside, wanting to see how worked. The natural curiosity of children, and all that. Afterwards, he’d tried to put it back together, but it hadn’t been functional, no matter how hard he’d tried. The wires hadn’t been color-coded, like a bomb defusal scene out of a movie, which had been a big letdown, and he’d probably ended up messing them up, so they were all disconnected and plugged into in the wrong places. Hence the not working. Thinking about how he gets off on defiling Jongin to the point of tears, Kyungsoo thinks his brain is maybe like the tape player. Somewhere along the way, somehow, he’d gotten all his wires crossed, like someone had stuck a screwdriver inside his skull through his ear and stirred it around till it was all twisted up, and then left everything plugged into the wrong spots. Because it’s not normal—the way his dick gets hard when Jongin cries like that. He’s just— _so cute,_ with the way his little nose gets all pink, and his lips swell, and his eyelashes stick together in dark, wet clumps. Cute, how he snuffles and rubs at his eyes with the back of his fists. That’s just a fact though; that’s not the weird part. It’s normal, finding Jongin cute. Everyone in Exo does. Hell, he has fangirls all around the world that do too. Kyungsoo would probably in the minority if he didn’t. The weird part is how fucking aggressive it makes Kyungsoo feel, the way he wants to shove Jongin down and fuck him mercilessly while he sobs and hiccoughs and snivels pathetically. 

Maybe though, there’s another factor to the story. Maybe there’s another screwdriver, maybe there’s another set of crossed wires. Maybe Jongin really does get off on it just as much as he does. Kyungsoo needs to know. The problem is that making a grown man cry repeatedly isn’t actually that easy. He doesn’t really want to keep repeating mean things, because Jongin might actually take them to heart, no matter how many times Kyungsoo tells him they aren’t true afterwards, and that’s actually the worst thing that Kyungsoo can imagine. He could hit Jongin, (and, knowing him Jongin would probably like it) but that’s not really Kyungsoo’s thing. The crying is shameful enough, without physical violence involved. Which leaves him feeling kind of unsure of himself. What makes Jongin cry? Lots of things. Sadness, like everyone, disappointment with himself, physical pain, emotional pain. Being overwhelmed, being scared. Kyungsoo has a sudden vision of himself hiding around a corner in a Freddy Krueger mask. Yikes. Definitely not sexy. All off the table. Embarrassment, maybe? Embarrassment is good for Kyungsoo, because Jongin is always incredibly cute when he’s embarrassed. So what embarrasses him? Lots of things, when he’s off stage. His stage wardrobe, when Kyungsoo smacks his ass in front of the others, when Kyungsoo whispers dirty things in his ear when they’re in public. Sex. Jongin loves sex, but it embarrasses him outside of the bedroom. _Bingo._

_____________________

“I wanna fuck you in front of the others, baby” he tells Jongin, quiet but matter-of-fact. They’re standing in the kitchen, and there’s no way that any one else can hear them, but Jongin still glances around, looking scandalized. Kyungsoo waits, but Jongin doesn’t say anything, scuffing at the floor with his socked toes instead. It’s not a no. Kyungsoo presses on. “Lately I can’t stop thinking about how nice you’d look bent over the table, moaning prettily while I finger you open in front of everyone. Would you like that, Jonginnie?” 

“I don’t know.” Jongin is looking resolutely down at his feet. He clears his throat. “Tell me—more? I’d have to hear more about it….” Kyungsoo chuckles. 

“I’d use tons of lube, a whole bottle to get your hole all wet and messy, so everyone could hear the sounds my fingers were making inside of you.”  
Jongin’s cheek barely pink up, even when he’s at his most embarrassed, but Kyungsoo can tell that he’s flushing heavily, heat radiating off his ears and neck. Jongin absently flexes his foot and traces a little figure-eight into the wooden floor of the kitchen. Eternally a dancer, even at times like this. He clears his throat; nervous, but wanting to hear more. Cute. 

“I’d start with two fingers, soft, and gentle, just the way you like. Everyone would be sitting there, and I know you’d be embarrassed, would try to keep quiet even though everyone at the table would know that you love having your little hole played with.” Jongin fidgets, and mutters something that sounds like “no I don’t,” under his breath. As if Kyungsoo hasn’t been getting Jongin off with his fingers inside of him for years. Okay. 

“I think you’d be able to keep quiet for a while—you’re so well-behaved, aren’t you, baby? But you’d get noisy when I put the third one in. You always do. You like being filled up, don’t you?” 

“No,” says Jongin, “I’d still be quiet—I’d be too embarrassed to make noise in front of everyone—no matter what you did I’d—“

“What about when I started fucking you, baby?” Kyungsoo interrupts him. “Would you be able to keep quiet then? I don’t think I would. It’s so hard when you always feel so good around me, the way your little pussy sucks me in. I think I’d have to tell everyone how good it felt—how good you always feel around my cock when I’m fucking you.” 

“Oh god, hyung,” Jongin looks up at him, finally, pupils wide, nearly panting, “you can’t just—you can’t tell them that.”

Kyungsoo closes in on him, takes a step forward, enjoying the way Jongin lets him in, welcomes him, molds himself so Kyungsoo fits into his space. Jongin is always acquiescing; Kyungsoo has to constantly remember not to press too hard—to demand too much give. Bend, not break. They’re so close together now, Kyungsoo could count every dark eyelash framing Jongin’s eyes if he tried. He whispers in Jongin’s ear instead. 

“Would you like that, baby? Would you like me to fuck you in front of everyone, bend you over the table and just _have_ you, and I wouldn’t be able to stop telling everyone how good you feel for me, how perfect you are. Everyone would just be watching you, staring at you, knowing what a good fuck you are, but they don’t get to fuck you no matter how much they want to, do they, baby?”

“No,” says Jongin breathlessly, “never, I’d never let them.”

“And why is that, baby?” Kyungsoo asks. 

“Because I’m yours, hyung.” He’s so earnest when he speaks, sometimes it takes Kyungsoo’s breath away. “Just yours to use” he says, “to do what you want with.” Then, quieter, an addendum: “whatever you want with.” 

“Is that a yes?” Kyungsoo asks, mind spinning. He feels like his lungs have shrunk—like there’s something inside him stopping him from taking a deep breath. 

Jongin doesn’t say anything, but Kyungsoo knows it’s a yes. He lets Jongin drag him back to the bedroom, laughing when Jongin yanks impatiently on his hand, and then promptly looks ashamed of himself, ears burning and cheeks stained lightly. God he’s pretty. It’s a surprise when Jongin pushes him back on the bed, yanking off his pants and swallowing down Kyungsoo’s dick almost immediately. It’s an even bigger surprise when Jongin tugs Kyungsoo’s fingers out and straddles Kyungsoo’s hips to sink down on him, impatient and just this side of well stretched. 

“You really liked that, huh baby?” Kyungsoo says. Jongin jerks his head noncommittally, whole body shuddering as he finally reaches the base of Kyungsoo’s cock. There are tears clinging to his eyelashes, and Kyungsoo can tell that he’s not ready to move yet; still needs time to adjust following his overzealous attempt at riding Kyungsoo. Cute. 

“There’s no rush baby,” Kyungsoo says, but Jongin shakes his head determinedly. He looks up. 

“Talk about it more,” he says, simply, “please,” and who is Kyungsoo to refuse him? 

“Sometimes I think about fucking you on the couch, while we’re all watching movies together. We’d all be sitting there, and I’d pull you onto my lap and slide your pants down your legs and just slip into you.” Jongin looks drunk, staring down Kyungsoo with dilated pupils, mouth slightly open as Kyungsoo gives a tentative thrust. 

“You wouldn’t need prep,” Kyungsoo says, “I’m sure I would have fucked you nice and wet earlier, and you’d still be all stretched and easy from it.” He pinches at Jongin’s thighs, trying to get him to move, and is gratified when Jongin does, rolling his hips shakily a few times before raising himself up and dropping down. 

“What then,” asks Jongin. He easily slides into a regular rhythm and it takes Kyungsoo a moment to pull his thoughts together, too caught up in the creeping pleasure to remember what he was talking about. “Well I’d say I’d make you ride me, but we both know that’s a lie, don’t we. All I need to do stick something inside your hole and you go crazy. I bet you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself, would you baby?” 

“No, I’m not—” Jongin starts to whine, but Kyungsoo slaps his thigh. It’s less of a punishment and more of a reminder: don’t talk back, be good. The truth is that Jongin is horribly shy and easily embarrassed, but it’s more fun this way, easier to tease him if he can’t object, hotter to watch him shamefully swallow Kyungsoo’s dirty words without any denial. 

“So everyone would be watching the movie, and you’d be squirming on my lap, all messy and desperate and sweet.” 

“Wouldn’t—wouldn’t everyone notice?” asks Jongin, breathless and nervous, like he doesn’t know what he wants the answer to be. 

“Of course they would, baby, but I would just tell them you’re where you’re supposed to be, doing what you’re naturally best at. You belong on my cock, don’t you. Look how good you are. A perfect cock whore.” 

“Hyung,” Jongin bounces harder, whining imploringly at Kyungsoo, “hyung, it’s not enough. Can’t you—?” 

“Can’t I what, baby?” Kyungsoo says, and it’s amazing, the way the Jongin can glare and pout while riding Kyungsoo’s dick like his life depends on it. 

“Hyung,” stutters Jongin again, desperate and needy. “I need—can’t you—you know—” 

“I don’t know what you want, Jongin.” 

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin is actually angry now; he only drops the honorific when he’s really, truly upset, “you know—you’re being mean. Stop being mean. You know what I want.”

“Hmm,” says Kyungsoo, “is this what you want?” He pinches Jongin’s nipples, hard, before rubbing over them soothingly with the pads of his thumbs. Jongin’s legs give out abruptly and he crumbles on Kyungsoo’s lap, moaning loudly. Kyungsoo licks his thumbs and spreads the salvia on the hard buds, before rubbing them gently some more. 

“Haa—that’s not—ah,” Jongin says, hips still moving in little twitching motions, grinding down against Kyungsoo’s cock inside of him. He’s so pretty like this: eyes shut and mouth hanging open in pleasure. 

“Use your words,” says Kyungsoo, “come on. Even cock whores know how to speak.”

“I hate you,” says Jongin, no bite. He wraps his arms around Kyungsoo’s shoulders and starts to roll his hips again. Kyungsoo moves one of his hands down, away from Jongin’s nipples to his cock and starts jerking him off. It’s sloppy, and awkward, but Jongin still moans loudly. 

“Come on, baby,” says Kyungsoo. “Tell me what you want. I’ll let you come if you do.” 

“I want you to keep doing that,” Jongin groans, so Kyungsoo stops. Jongin whines loudly. He threads his fingers into the short hair at the back of Kyungsoo’s head and tugs as he continues to roll his hips. It stings. 

“You’re such a bully,” Jongin pants. Kyungsoo can tell he’s close, so close, but he’ll never be able to come like this. A perpetual step away from the finish line. 

“You like it,” Kyungsoo replies. 

“Yeah,” Jongin says. Kyungsoo rewards him with a single flick of his wrist, hand sliding smoothly up and down Jongin’s cock. Just once. Jongin whines again. 

“You like it when I’m rough, too. Don’t you, baby?” 

“Yes,” says Jongin again, and so Kyungsoo rewards him again, jerking him off for a full five seconds before he stops. Now Jongin gets it. 

“What else, baby? What else do you like?’ 

“I like it when you’re mean,” Jongin says, “I like it when you call me bad names.” Kyungsoo gives him a big reward for that one, since it could almost count as two things, circling his thumb around the sensitive head of Jongin’s cock and flicking his wrist until Jongin is nearly convulsing. Jongin keens loudly when he stops this time. Kyungsoo isn’t even trying to get him to cry, just admit—one more time, when Kyungsoo is actually awake and listening—that he likes it, but at this rate he just might start sobbing anyway. 

“You like it when I tease you?” Kyungsoo asks, then before Jongin can answer: “you like it when I make you cry?”

“Yes, so much—god—please, hyung—fuck,” Jongin stutters out desperately. Finally. Kyungsoo can give him what he wants now—can give them both what they want. 

“Oh god,” says Jongin, “please don’t stop. Hyung, please—please don’t stop—I’m gonna—“ Kyungsoo doesn’t stop this time, and Jongin comes beautiful, arching his back, tugging on Kyungsoo’s hair so hard that Kyungsoo should probably be the one wailing like that. Kyungsoo follows him over the edge right after. 

_____________________

To say it’s surprising that Junmyeon and Minseok are the only ones who don’t want to watch Jongin get fucked would be misleading. Not because it’s out of character for any of the rest of them, just because it doesn’t surprise Kyungsoo, because he really doesn’t care enough who agrees to it to be surprised. As long as someone is watching it’s good enough. Fuck, even if no one wanted to watch, the amount that it embarrasses Jongin, telling the rest of the group that Jongin himself wants them to watch him get fucked, would probably be enough to get Kyungsoo off for the foreseeable future. 

As it is though, he’s mildly pleased with how things turn out. Not only does he get to embarrass Jongin, but he also gets to rub it in everyone else’s faces that he’s the only one who gets to fuck him, which is an added perk that somehow Kyungsoo can’t stop thinking about. So apparently he’s like…. An exhibitionist asshole, too. Cool. All this, just from a little bit of talking dirty. Kind of manipulative, how he talked Jongin into this just so that Kyungsoo could get his jollies doing some weird, sadistic, brain-wires-crossed-type shit. Machiavellian. Not too much though, because Jongin will definitely get off on it too. Like a dash of bitters in mixed drink—just enough to add a bit of flavor and depth. Minimally Machiavellian.

On the official day, Kyungsoo ties Jongin to the table, bent over forward, with his ankles spread apart and tied to the legs of the table. He’s completely naked—Kyungsoo had briefly considered getting him some lingerie—knows Jongin would be embarrassed out of his mind by it—but it’s not worth the scandal of being caught buying it. Jongin looks perfect no matter what he’s wearing (or not wearing) anyway. It’s lovely, how bendy he is. The knots aren’t pretty, but they don’t need to be; Jongin is pretty enough. Kyungsoo has never felt the need to disguise his baser desires as art, anyway. 

He lets the rest of them gather around, and is pleased to see how full of anticipation they look. Hungry. Jongin is face-down, forehead pressed resolutely against the cool wood, too embarrassed to see anything. Kyungsoo kind of wants him to, but he doesn’t push it. There’s a thin line between Jongin being so overwhelmed he cries and being straight-up too overwhelmed. Kyungsoo feels like a tightrope walker sometimes, toeing at it. 

Kyungsoo doesn’t bother to warm up the lube before he sticks his first finger inside Jongin. He wants to make Jongin react—wants to put on a show. Jongin shivers softly, before going back to being completely still. He barely even moves when Kyungsoo presses in as far as he can, just far enough to run softly across Jongin’s prostate. So poised. 

“What does it feel like?” That’s Chanyeol’s voice. Kyungsoo can tell that he’s overeager, tongue nearly tripping over the words, even as he tries to sound casual and detached about it. Fucking voyeur. Or maybe he just really wants to fuck Jongin. 

“Tight,” says Kyungsoo. “Unbelievably tight. Like the hottest, tightest, silkiest pussy you’ve ever had. But better.” Jongin makes a loud, embarrassed noise in the back of his throat at that, before going back to being completely quiet and immobile. Trying to maintain face. 

If he wants to be quiet though, Kyungsoo can work with that. He slips another finger inside. 

“He’s such a perfect little fuck doll, isn’t he? Just lying there silently, taking it, not even moving. Have you ever seen something so passive?” Jongin whimpers again at that. Or maybe it’s the way Kyungsoo is actually stretching him now, scissoring his fingers apart. 

“Yeah” says Chanyeol, “he’s perfect.” It breaks Kyungsoo out of his thoughts. Kyungsoo wasn’t actually talking to him or expecting an answer, but whatever. 

“Perfect for public use,” Kyungsoo continues, “you can just slip right in while he sits on your lap and he’ll never make a peep.” 

“Fuck,” says Chanyeol again. “Fuck.” Kyungsoo wants to tell him to shut up. Instead he pulls his fingers out and pours more lube on them, and a bit more on Jongin’s hole too, before sliding three back inside. Jongin gasps as they slide in, a loud, shaky inhale, and the tension grows. The room feels charged with electricity. 

Jongin seems the most tense of all. His legs aren’t moving, but Kyungsoo can tell that he’s tensing and relaxing them, stuck between his embarrassment and arguing with what Kyungsoo is saying. Whining. It must be hard for him; Kyungsoo has never seen him not talk back before. Poor baby. He presses further with his fingers, stops focusing on stretching and more on pleasure as he draws his fingers across Jongin’s prostate gently, once, twice, three times. He’s rewarded by Jongin arching his back, abruptly, like he tried to hold it back but couldn’t. His head comes briefly off the table. Kyungsoo knows he sees all of them, sees everyone watching him get fingered, even if it’s only for a second. 

“Oh god,” Jongin mutters, like he doesn’t even realize he’s speaking aloud. He drops his head back to the table. Kyungsoo yanks it back up. 

“I want you to watch them,” he says, and then pulls his fingers out and uses them to slick up his cock. Jongin gasps loudly when Kyungsoo slides into his body. 

“Keep watching them,” he says, tugging on Jongin’s hair as he starts thrusting slowly. Jongin whimpers. 

“Hyung,” he mutters, “hyung that’s so embarrassing—please—“ 

“No,” says Kyungsoo. “Don’t shut your eyes.” He grabs onto Jongin’s waist with his other hand, fingers digging into his skin for leverage. Jongin has pretty bony hips, honestly. Good to hold onto. Solid and firm. He thrusts a little bit harder, relishing the smooth slide on his cock. He wants everyone to hear it. It’s funny, he’s never realized until right this moment just how noisy the wet, slick sounds of even the most subdued, gentle fucking are. Kind of like the first time Jongin slept in his bed, and Kyungsoo’s breathing—which had never seemed loud to him before—suddenly felt louder than a jet engine. Kyungsoo wonders if they can all hear it. He pulls out and drizzles a little more lube onto himself, before sliding back in and starting up a rougher, less forgiving rhythm. He feels vindicated when his movements begin to make loud squelching noises, balls slapping wetly against Jongin’s ass. The table slides an inch across the floor, squeaking. Jongin makes a sound that sounds suspiciously like a small moan. 

“Oh god,” Jongin breathes out, voice scratchy, “oh god, oh god, oh god, hyung—” Kyungsoo can’t even tell if he’s saying it from the embarrassment or the pleasure, but he thrusts harder anyway, pistoning forward with his hips the way Jongin always loves. He’s rewarded with Jongin going completely lax in his hold and letting out a loud, choked-off sob. Kyungsoo can see that he’s drooling all over the table.

“How do you feel, baby? Why don’t you tell me how good I’m making your hole feel, hmm?” he asks. He tugs on Jongin’s hair again: a brief reminder to keep his eyes open no matter how good he feels.

“Don’t make me tell you,” Jongin gasps out, “please. I’m so embarrassed—I’m so—god— please.” 

“Tell them then.” He pulls Jongin’s hair back further and looks up for the first time, finally looking across the table at the rest of the group. Chanyeol is sitting the closest, nearly chomping at the bit, drooling like a rabid dog as he stares intently at Jongin’s face. He looks desperate—like he’s about to spring up, rip the table apart with his fists. Baekhyun is sitting to the left of him, expression frozen somewhere between dizzying arousal and the desire to laugh in a bizarre half-smile. Chen is sitting to the left, face frozen, jaw clenched, eyes wide as dinner plates. Sehun is sitting behind all of them, with the most impassive expression Kyungsoo has ever seen. 

“Look at them all,” Kyungsoo says, “and tell them.” Jongin does—and sobs. 

“Fuck,” he wails, “fuck, I feel so—it feels so good“ Jongin doesn’t usually swear. Kyungsoo feels proud of having pushed him too it, pushed him to tears and raw, unfiltered honesty. 

"You’re such a disaster, baby,” Kyungsoo says. It’s a compliment; Kyungsoo hopes Jongin knows, thinks he does by the way he keens even more loudly and shudders with his whole body. 

“You like everyone watching you get fucked so much, don’t you? Are you imagining them fucking you after I finish? What if I just left you on the table when I was done and let them have you, use you till your hole is loose and sloppy. Would you like that?”

“Hyung,” Jongin whines, “that’s so—I don’t—“

‘Come on baby, admit it.” Kyungsoo murmurs to him, loud enough for the rest of them to hear. 

“Oh god,” Jongin gurgles, “I’m so embarrassed—hyung I’m— I can’t—don’t make me say it.”

God, he’s such a fucking mess, crying and drooling on himself like some kind of animal, and it shouldn’t be this hot, but it’s like it gets better every time. Kyungsoo’s sure he’ll always think it’s the best thing, the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“Hurry up,” says Kyungsoo, “or I’ll leave you here, without coming, and make you grind against the table till you get off while they all watch.” Kyungsoo might actually come, at this rate. Everything feels more intense; the addition of the audience has more adrenaline pumping through his veins, lighting up his nerves. Everything feels better. 

“God,” Jongin sobs, “I do, please—I want them to all fuck me, use me until I’m loose and sloppy—god, _god—_ ” he comes like that, still stuttering out slurred words and Kyungsoo does too, can’t even hold on for another second as he’s consumed by his orgasm. 

His senses come back to him slowly as he comes down off the high of his orgasm. First is the thought that Kyungsoo has probably never come that hard before. Second is the way his toes and calves ache from standing on his toes all that time. Thirdly is the fact that Jongin is still crying freely, sobbing actually, and maybe Kyungsoo should be concerned about it, because he’s never seen Jongin cry this hard before during sex. Or like, ever, if he actually thinks about it. He unties Jongin as quickly as he can—tired, clumsy fingers struggling with the tight knots. When he’s finished, Jongin doesn’t even move, just stays collapsed against the table, body heaving. Kyungsoo feels worry being to stir in his stomach, cold and heavy. He gently urges Jongin to stand, and is grateful that Jongin’s knees don’t buckle when he finally does. Kyungsoo’s not actually strong enough to carry Jongin, no matter how much he wants to right now. Instead he wraps his arm around Jongin’s waist and leads his own towards his bedroom, rubbing his back soothingly. The rest of Exo are undoubtedly watching, but Kyungsoo isn’t concerned about them right now, doesn’t care what they think. Jongin is the only one that matters. He settles him on the bed softly and then sits down across from him, crossing his legs. Jongin sways slightly in his sitting position. Kyungsoo cups his cheek, gently lifts his face so that, finally their eyes meet, but Jongin’s eyes are closed. 

“Baby,” he murmurs softly, “ baby talk to me. Are you okay? Did we go too far?” Jongin shakes his head, but he’s still crying too hard to answer. Kyungsoo kisses his forehead, and then hugs him, pressing Jongin’s face into the crook of his shoulder, and lets him cry it out, trailing his fingers absently through the hair at the back of Jongin’s head the way he likes. Jongin clings to him. Finally, he opens his eyes. 

“I just—“ he hiccoughs, “I just love you so much, hyung. I really, really love you.” 

“What,” says Kyungsoo stupidly, completely taken aback. “You’re crying because you love me?” 

“Mhmm,” Jongin sniffles. “I love you so, so much.”

Of all the reasons Kyungsoo has ever considered to get Jongin to cry… this never even crossed his mind. But he finds that he loves this one the most, somehow, even though it’s completely different—doesn’t make him feel aggressive or aroused or possessive. Just—giddy. Maybe his wiring isn’t completed faulty after all. He grins, so widely he knows all of his gums must be showing, but he can’t help it. 

“I love you too,” he says. “More than anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/catboyjongin)


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